What's That?

IT WAS REALLY LOUD HERE TODAY. LIKE, THE ENTIRE DAY. WITHOUT CEASING. THEY EVEN TALKED IN THEIR SLEEP...HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!

Oh, I'm sorry, was I yelling? I've lost all ability to modulate my volume.

One of the things that I didn't factor in when starting this business (it's a really, really long list, yo) was the sheer decibel level of my days from now on. All day, every day, it's loud. Loud cries, and yells, and tantrums. Loud laughs, and shrieks, and squeals. Loud door slams, and toilet lids, and cabinet doors.

More times than I care to admit, B has come home and asked me to stop yelling. "I'M NOT YELLING...WHAT ARE YOU TALKING AB...oh. Sorry. Right."

There's good loud, of course. The shouts on the playground, and snoring in my ear from the baby on my chest. The shrieks and giggles while I play tag with a newly-walking-toddler. The exclamations when we do some cool science project, or the hysterical laughter while we watch a funny video or movie scene.

Thankfully, the Good Loud far outweighs the soul-crushing, please-just-make-it-stop Bad Loud. The loud that makes me cringe, and clench my jaw, and search desperately for a safe place to plop the screaming baby so that I can take a time-out. Loud that makes me wonder if chugging Rescue Remedy would be beneficial.

We talk all day long about using inside voices, and using our words instead of screams. I give them plenty of time downstairs or outside to scream their heads off and they have, no joke, actual screaming contests. I've taken to watching TV with the volume almost off and the closed captioning on. That may be a tad bit extreme.

Putting 6-10 children in one confined (albeit several-thousand-square-foot) space will always be loud, I suppose, no matter how you slice it. Too bad ear plugs are frowned on.

Time to schedule my physical and be tested for hearing loss.

These Are the Days

These are the days I hope I can cherish, and look back on as positives. These are the days that I LOVE, and the days that make me grateful for my husband and his encouragement to start this career.

My first daycare baby showed up this morning in need of snuggles. I was exhausted, so we were a perfect match. I laid on the couch with her and we snuggled up, cooing at each other and getting ready for the day.

Around 8, my next clients arrived (brothers W&W), and joined the mix. The boys ran downstairs with C to watch cartoons, but the littler of the brothers ran over, wrapped his arms around me and baby H, and whispered, "I WUV you, Miss Sa-wah!"

I reheated pancakes for the kids (I'm seriously glad that I'm smart enough to make a ginormous batch every few weeks and freeze them) and 2 more babies arrived around 9:15 with mama M and Grandpa in tow.

Around 9:30, the last baby of the day arrived, and we (gently) separated him from his mama (he's new, and the transition from being-with-mama-all-the-time-for-two-years to daycare-twice-a-week is a teensy bit rough on him) and headed to the park.

An hour and a half later, we headed home. I put lunch in the oven, and we spent another hour and a half on the porch playing. When the kids came inside for lunch (spaghetti squash with italian sausage, homemade spaghetti sauce, mushrooms, mozzarella, and parmesan), they were FILTHY. Filthy is good. I LOVE using an entire pack of wipes on the kids. It means they're being KIDS, and ensures that their immune systems are getting a workout.

Naps lasted almost 2.5 hours, across the board. My baby and my youngest daycare baby didn't nap. My exhausted self did not deal with that well, but I apologized to my baby for being cranky.

This afternoon was more outdoor time. Several hours in the yard, playing soccer and football.

Since today is Friday, it was Mommy Wine Night. We try and rotate, so someone brings the wine and someone else brings dinner for the kids.

I'm eternally grateful for my clients. M and L (mothers to P&R and W&W, respectively) have become my best friends. They've comforted me, praised me, and kept me in check. They're my first line of defense when I'm being a jerkface.They're also my loudest cheerleaders. Without them, E, and K...I would be lost here. Northern Virginia is a really hard place to live and raise a family if you're not used to competitive living. They keep me grounded and help me find the good. I'm so desperately grateful.

THREE...is evil

The age of 3 sucks.

I love kids. Really and truly, watching them move through life is one of my greatest joys. That said, 3 can bite me.

Three year olds are basically The Worst. They're opinionated, yet indecisive. They're independent, yet incompetent. They're loving and venomous. They're a paradigm, wrapped in an enigma.

Right now, I have my 3 year old (he'll be four at the end of the month, but is SO THREE), and a 2 year old who will be three at the end of May. Two three year olds is about enough to do me in.

Our breakfast menu is set, here. M/W, it's eggs, bacon/sausage, and toast/biscuits/fruit. Tu/Th, it's cold cereal. Friday is always pancakes. It may be blueberry/chocolate chip/banana, but it's pancakes.

C will, inevitably, b!t@# about our breakfast menu, but wait until I'm done cooking to do it.

While I get that kids are totally allowed to change their minds, and that it's a healthy part of childhood to encourage independence and growth and all that jazz...I'm not a short order cook. I LITERALLY can't accommodate his specific breakfast wishes, because if I do that, I'm left with the REST of the kids. They'll ALL want something different. I have to be a jerk about it.

I don't want this to turn in to yet another "KIDS SUCK" post. I want it to be clear, that there are a myriad of childhood stages that I adore. I love snuggling newborns. I love watching toddlers learn to navigate their world. I love seeing preschool-aged kids learn to write their names, spell colors, identify numbers...3 though?

The age of three can bite me.

With all five of my children, I've wanted to GIVE THEM AWAY at age three. It's awful.

WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING STARTING THIS BUSINESS? I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THREE YEAR OLDS!!!!

*woooooooooooosaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

I know, intuitively, that three is not the end of the world. It's really hard though, yo. Harder than any age above, thus far. Our oldest girl is 14 and our oldest boy is 7. 3 is still The Worst. :-/

Sometimes You're the Windshield, Sometimes You're the Bug

There are days, more than I'd like to admit, in which the inmates run the asylum.

Days when nothing I do can soothe them. Days when the screaming, and in-fighting, and restlessness takes over, and I'm left throwing my hands up, wishing it was easier.

I struggle with that...the impetus to wish the hard part away. Am I also wishing away the good? Am I trying to rush through the tough parts of childhood? Am I missing the mystery and innocence of the toddler years because they're SO.FREAKING.HARD??

I try to stay in the moment, and make sure that I'm experiencing the kids as they are. I try and make sure I'm giving them time to explore, and experience the world around them. I try and ensure that they're safe and protected, without being a helicopter.

They're going to fall, and get bruises and scrapes and bumps along the way. They're going to bleed...it's an almost-inevitable part of childhood. They're going to have scabs and scars from their experiences.

I struggle to be okay with that. With the visual reminder that I wasn't able to protect them.

I struggle to balance the desire to keep them away from all things dangerous, with the desire to allow them to experience the world. I want them to dig in the dirt, and eat bugs, and fall off the rock mound they're climbing. I just don't want them to hurt.

Some days it's all good, and I"m engaged, and able to pacify them and keep them entertained. Other days...well other days I'm not quite the woman I want to be. I'm short and quick tempered, and have very little patience for toddler shenanigans.

I guess that's what it means to be human, huh?

Moments to Hold On To

This post hit a chord with me, and has stuck with me. I keep coming back to it as a reference point when I'm completely overwhelmed with the cards life has dealt me, and it's been a huge relief. 

My addition?

You'll ache, someday, for one more time when your little one is only calmed by your hugs. When "snuggle?" is heard 35 times a day, because it means that your babe needs to reconnect with the security of your love to find his place in the world. The days when a plaintive cry and frantic rooting means you get to spend the next half an hour memorizing the topography of your newborn's face.

The years fly, though the days seem endless. It took me 4 kids to figure out that cherishing the trying times makes the independence even sweeter. Don't wish away the need, for all too soon they're off having sleepovers, with nary a backward glance.

This is what it is to raise children in love. To constantly say goodbye as they move through life's stages and milestones, knowing they're safe, and prepared, and confident, and you're left aching for one more cuddle/snuggle/rocking session. Aching to one more time feel the weight of their little toddler body, perfectly curving around you as they lay heavy with sleep. 

This I wish for you, my friends...may you have a myriad of moments that you won't stop holding on to.

A Magical Childhood

This post has been circulating around Facebook this week, and it took me a few days to formulate my thoughts on the matter.

Here are things you should do as a parent, if you're so inclined:
1) Scour Pinterest and recreate All of the Things that you find there, to the last detail. Bonus points if you add glitter, as I personally find it to be the herpes of the craft world.

2) Create elaborate leprechaun traps, and leave evidence for your children that there has been a mythical creature in your home. 

3) Engage in a different elf-on-the-shelf tactic every night between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Make it as far-fetched as possible.

Here are things you shouldn't do as a parent, if you don't want to:
1) All of the above.

If you want to send your kids outside for hours at a time, go for it. If you'd rather spend hours at the table creating masterpieces from macaroni, yarn, and patience, do it. Why does it have to be one or the other? I don't feel like less of a mother because I have friends who are capable of creating beautiful things from thin air. It's their thing. Good for them. I do what I can when I can. I have different strengths. 

Childhood is inherently magical for kids whose parents give a crap about them. "Making magic" for them is an extension of how some parents show their love. My dad cooked for us, and that was his love. Hours spent slaving over a hot stove, delivering delicious meals to the table when we KNEW he'd much rather be chilling in the recliner with a glass of Jack and a good book. He did all of that to show his love for us, and we felt it with every bite. Other parents spend hours creating elaborate worlds for hand-crafted fairies.

Put energy in to your kids. Play with them, or don't. Craft with them, or don't. Decorate for every holiday under the sun, or none. Just love them the best way you know how. 

Here's a secret I've gleaned from 10.5 years of parenting 5 wildly different children...there is no secret. 

Do what you can with what you have, and hope your children will choose a nice home for you when you become senile and incontinent. 

Love them. 

Love their imperfections; their tantrums, their hugs, their kisses, their attitude, their smirks, and their failings. 

Love their dimples, and skinned knees, and bruised foreheads, and crooked hairline because they wiggled during their last haircut. 

Love their teen angst, and lies, and deceit. 

Love their honesty, and vulnerability, and the way their 14 year old arms, that reach well above your head, wrap so delicately around you when they need reassurance...reminding you, painfully, of their chubby toddler arms. 

Love all of it. 

The good, the bad, the ugly. This is what life is. This is what it means to be a parent. This is what we're called to do when we bring a new life in to the world.

What a Difference a Year Makes

I've been prompted (yes, I'm looking at you, Briana) to blog more, so here goes.

It's been just under a year since my last entry. We've grown a lot since then, saying goodbye to some friends, and hello to others.

Zo left for preschool, Ru left to move across the country, and A left for greener pastures.

P and R (brothers) joined us in late summer last year. P and We are only a few months apart in age, and fight like cats and dogs most of the time. They're very quick to blame the other for any and all mishaps, while at the same time bemoaning time spent apart. It's the definition of a love-hate relationship. P and R will only be with me for a couple more months, as their family is posting to Jordan at the beginning of June, and will be gone for a couple of years. Given that their mom and I have become fast friends, this is a loss I'll feel very deeply.

Baby girl H joined us in January, and spent the first few weeks sitting in the middle of the floor in sheer terror at the velocity and decibel level of a house full of small boys. She's acclimated quite well, and now rules the roost. If H isn't happy, the boys run for their lives, or try and shush her. It's really quite impressive.

In June, we'll welcome baby S, who will be 7 months at the time. Her parents just bought a house here in our neighborhood, so they'll be nice and close!  Then in November-ish, baby-to-be-determined will join us, at just 6 weeks of age. Mama interviewed with me when she was just a few months pregnant, and decided to register before even knowing the baby's sex. That's dedication, yo. She'll find out next week what they're having. I've got to admit, I'm sending girl vibes as hard as I can.

We've been up to much of the same lately. The dynamics are slightly different with so many boys so close in age, but it's working well. Everyone sleeps, which, let's face it, is the biggest fear. My most "problematic" child (if you can even call it that) is my own 3 year old son.

I think we're finally rounding the corner in to Spring, and couldn't be more grateful. The last 5 months have been brutal, with very few chances to get outdoors and explore. We still can't make use of most of the playgrounds in the neighborhood since they're mud pits, but we've logged a few dozen miles on the stroller tires. That'll have to do for now.

Now that Spring is starting to...spring...it's time once again to start seeds!  Except, I think I'm skipping the seed thing this year and going straight to starter-plants. We did get a vermicompost bin this year, so the kids have gotten a HUGE kick out of helping me throw their food scraps in to the bin, and then check it a few days later to see how the worms have devoured the scraps. Definitely imparting crucial "circle of life" lessons here. Or something.

Upon request, I'll be sprinkling the daycare updates with my take on recent parenting articles. I am quite certain that I am no better than the mother next to me in the line at Wegman's, but my opinion seems to matter to some, so I'll run with it. Who doesn't love an ego boost?